Post by LADY YSADORA OF OSTLEA on Sept 12, 2013 23:21:15 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] THERE'S A STRANGER IN MY BED THERE'S A POUNDING IN MY HEAD The Words: --- The Outfit: --- The Notes you're a brat Fatigue- heavy lids batted open. Echoes of a night previous thundered within her skull. Ysadora groggily glared towards the ceiling feeling comfort at the return of her personal chamber’s scenery-it was a pleasant relief that the gala had concluded for the year. It caused more worry than peace. And with the nauseating fog that encircled her waking conscious, she was certain its finality was for the best. Drink was something the woman did not usually partake in, but for such celebratory measures she found it a necessary evil; Ysadora could not hold her liquor as well as the Lady Pherene. She was a light weight, dizzy on but the scent of whiskey. And the apparent side effect was a clean wipe out of her memory, though she believed it safe to assume the night had been nothing but a bore; an event of repetition that held no more surprises. Once as a small girl she had found the music an enchantment, memorized by the swirling of gowns as bright as the summer sun. If it were not for the alcohol presented she would hardly survive the evening. Her mind clicked to the dulled memory of her sister Pherene. She prayed the younger woman had gone to bed alone without the intentions of a male suitor-her engagement had been cemented and such a catastrophe would forever stain her dignity. Many within the royal court ‘slept around.’ It was a concept Ysadora could never quite wrap her head around. It was indecent and of poor taste. Ivory fingers curled between the sheets. A radiating heat caressed her side. Had one of Cyprian’s various pets snuck into her chambers? It would not have been the first incident. Annoyed, she blearily extended a finger and prodded the flesh of a human cheek. It was no dog or fattened feline, but a man. By the Gods she thought her sheets were infected with fleas-such a comfort they were not. But it was not such for long. A pang of chilled fear tore through her core. Throwing back the covers Ysadora bolted upward swaying with the sudden motion. A sea of bright greens and purples danced before narrowed eyes, disorientating and taking the princess off guard. She stumbled, reaching out for the headboard. Raven curls fluttered in her haste, falling in a tangled frenzy down the spine. In an unlady-like fashion Ysadora dug her palms into her lids as though rubbing the sight away. No. Absolutely not. There was not a man in her bed. It was simply a drunken stupor-a hangover most unpleasant. Besides, she still wore her gown. Ysadora slowly gazed down towards her feet. A splotch of wine dirtied the hem of her dress. Of course. Too much honeyed wine. But as she peered back up the man had not vanished. In fact he stayed quite comfortably in his spot-was he even awake? She could not tell-she could hardly fathom a glance at him! Obviously he had snuck in on his own accord during her slumber. That is what had happened. Yes, of course. The guards were filled with party and had been attending to their long wasted king. She was the victim in all of this! Right? Perhaps if she left the man would realize his blunder and leave immediately. A sickening heat flushed across her features, shading them a bright red. It was a rare moment where she found herself tongue tied. Too humiliated to confront the situation head-on Ysadora made to step back and head for the door. She would check on Celandine, yes! And upon her return the man would certainly make himself sparse. Seven devils, what had she done?! If Lady Pherene caught wind…if anyone caught wind of such horror she would surely die. |
